


laws of attraction

by hale_and_hearty



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dysfunctional Relationship, Ficlets, Idiots in Love, M/M, i'm bad at tagging whatever, possibly pwp lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8857675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hale_and_hearty/pseuds/hale_and_hearty
Summary: like attracts like. neil is drawn to andrew like a moth is drawn to a flame. 
// 
a series of ficlets of varying lengths regarding the intricate relationship of falling for flames and trying not to get burned.





	1. a pretext of words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emptythoughts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emptythoughts/gifts).



> dedicated to terri, for getting me into this dumbass series. thanks for ruining my life, now i get to return the favor with fics. love you, idiot.

_Yes_.

Until Andrew, Neil doesn’t believe that certain words can have deeper meanings. That a word can mean more than its dictionary definition. But Andrew breathes _yes_ and Neil shudders and undoes the button of Andrew’s jeans for the first time.

Andrew bites his lip to hold back a _please_ and Neil licks the bitterness of the word from his tongue. He shifts his grip, kisses down Andrew’s chest, looks up from between his knees and hoarsely whispers, _yes or no_ , and Andrew says _god yes_ and Neil takes him into his mouth and Andrew sobs, tangles his fingers into Neil’s messy curls and tugs, ruins, wrecks, does with his fingers in Neil’s hair what Neil is doing with his tongue on Andrew’s cock.

And then Andrew is spent and oversensitive and snaps out a sharp _stop_ , and Neil jerks away from him as if burned. Scrambles back on the floor and waits, with baited breath, as Andrew struggles through one uncertain breath and then another, and then angrily, _come back here, junkie_ , and Neil does, crawls back between Andrew’s thighs and Andrew combs his fingers through his hair and pulls him up by the collar of his shirt, kisses him dirtily, the taste of himself on Neil’s tongue.

_112%_ , Andrew scowls into Neil’s mouth, and Neil swallows a laugh and thinks words that have never been in his vocabulary before, but doesn’t say them. If some words have meanings beyond their definitions, these words mean _nothing_. But Neil thinks them, protectively, over and over again while they curl together in bed, hysterically as he dozes off, on repeat. No one’s ever said them to him. He’s not sure Andrew has ever heard them, either. These words don’t carry any weight, not like _yes_ and _please_ and _stop_ and _112%_ do. That’s okay. Neil won’t ever say them, anyways.

But he thinks them, with his mouth open against the knob at the top of Andrew's spine. He thinks them but doesn't say them, and Andrew, prickly but not oblivious, hears them in the gestures anyways.


	2. between the burning house of your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Minyard is a car, and Neil doesn’t know how to drive. 
> 
> // 
> 
> Andrew teaches Neil how to drive, sort of.

_The drag of your hand across my chest sparks a blaze my lips cannot extinguish_   
_You, stubborn inferno_   
_You drive fast and damn the red lights for slowing you down_   
_You see my veins shake at your first touch_   
_The power to move my blood on your own accord_   
_The definition of heart_   
_And after the stick shift jerk_   
_I beg my skin to do tricks_   
_Like forget how good it feels to lose control_   
_Between the burning house_   
_Of your hands_

– Ryan Shaver, _13 Reasons Why_

 

* * *

 

Andrew Minyard is a car, and Neil doesn’t know how to drive.

That’s not true—he knows how to drive, but he’s never driven like _this_. Never a car quite so nice. Ferocious and roaring to life at the slightest touch, purring beneath his hands, flying down backroads at one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Neil knows how to drive, but a car like this begs him to relearn.

The last car Neil owned burned to the ground on a beach. Neil can still smell it, sometimes. The acrid smoke, the burning rubber. Screech of metal as it disassembles, mutates, melts. He’s not sure what to do with a car this nice. With a car that bites back.

“Slow,” Andrew orders, and Neil slows. Presses a gentle kiss to Andrew’s collarbone, fingers pressed flat against the leather seat beneath him. He _aches_ , wants to drive this car with skill, learn all of its hows and dos. Andrew asks him to slow down and Neil slams on the breaks. Andrew puts a hand on Neil’s hip and Neil’s body jerks with force. Engine hums. Ease around the curve.

“Josten,” Andrew says, and Neil looks up, pulls his face away from Andrew’s neck. Andrew looks concerned. He cups Neil’s chin with his fingers, resettles his weight in Neil’s lap. “What are you thinking about?”

Neil shrugs helplessly, his own hands still flat against the seat beneath him, where they’ll stay until Andrew tells him otherwise. Relearning how to drive—this time, without hands. Neil’s heart constricts in his chest. Nothing has ever felt like this.

“You,” Neil tells him, honestly, and Andrew rolls his eyes.

“Junkie,” he hisses, and bites down on Neil’s bottom lip. Neil closes his eyes. Andrew’s hand slides down his chest, and Neil shudders.

Andrew picks Neil’s hands up off the seat, places one on his shoulder, the other in his hair. “Stay,” he whispers, and Neil puts the car in park. Nods desperately, keeps his fingers locked around the parking break. Andrew slides down and Neil stays exactly where he was placed.

After, Andrew puts them back together. Helps Neil back into his shirt, kisses Neil gently on the mouth. They get out of the back seat of the Maserati and Andrew opens the passenger side door for Neil, kisses him again before he gets in. Shuts the door after he’s seated.

They’re somewhere in Texas, on a backroad shrouded by trees. Moonlight illuminates the road in front of them. Andrew slides into the driver’s seat and places his hand, palm up, on the center console. Neil takes it as the invitation it is, slotting their fingers together.

Andrew puts the car back into gear and takes off, flying down the road, thirty miles over the speed limit.

“How much further?” Andrew asks, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Maybe fifteen miles,” Neil answers. “We’re close.”

Andrew squeezes his hand, and they settle into a comfortable silence. One of his mother’s safe houses is out here. Parked in front of it is an old Toyota, indistinguishable from a million other cars on the road. Perfect for running.

Neil isn’t running anymore. But it would be nice to have his own car, rather than asking Andrew for the Maserati whenever he needs to go somewhere. Andrew doesn’t mind, of course. It’s just the independence of the thing. Of having his own car for the first time.

Well. Maybe not the _first_ time, Neil thinks, looking down at where his fingers are interlinked with Andrew’s. Andrew is not an old Toyota hidden away in the woods in Texas. He’s not a Maserati, either, not flashy or attention seeking. He’s just…Neil’s.

Neil smiles. He likes the sound of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by the poem at the beginning, from 13 reasons why, and also from a tumblr post about how "andrew minyard is a car hoe," because when i glanced at the post i originally read "andrew minyard is a car," and got excited, expecting really pretty metaphors. after getting over the disappointment i've done my best to write what i would have expected from a post like that.
> 
> also, this was an excuse to avoid my wip. sorry, terri.


End file.
